The Promise (29 page)

She touched it. The smooth metal base was practically
unblemished by age, the glass of the globe unmarred. She searched
the shadows surrounding the soft ring of light. Nothing was visible
beyond its glow. She frowned. Before falling asleep, they'd moved
back, deeper into the recesses of the tunnel, afraid that the
ceiling near the cave-in was too unstable.

Was it possible? Her heart was in her throat, hope
poking a timid head into the cavern of her mind.

"Michael?"

He sat up immediately, his face wary.

"Where did you say you found this lantern?"

He relaxed, his expression changing from startled to
confused as he tried to follow the gist of her conversation. "By
the wall, in the front of the tunnel. Why?"

She ignored his question, too full of her own. "Did
you see the cave-in? By lantern light, I mean?"

He shot her a look that clearly said he thought she'd
taken leave of her senses. "No, I didn't. I stumbled over the thing
and decided to bring it back to where you were sleeping before
lighting it. I didn't want to waste a match and I was afraid it
might go out while I was walking."

"So you didn't see the cave-in."

"Cara, I just said no. What's this all about?"

"I saw this lantern, Michael, after you'd been shot.
It was broken. Remember, I told you." She held her breath, waiting
for him to comment, but he only stared at her uncomprehendingly.
She released the breath and tried again. "It was old. Really
old."

His eyes widened as the import of what she was saying
sank in. "A hundred years old?"

She smiled. "I think so. The lantern I saw was the
same, I'm sure of it. Only my lantern was rusted and the globe had
been shattered."

"So if the lantern is new again then—" He broke off,
the beginnings of a smile lighting his face.

"Then, maybe, just maybe, the locket has worked its
magic."

The smile faded as he drew his brows together in
thought. "But Vargas had the necklace. It must have been buried in
the rock slide."

"Maybe it doesn't matter. I mean, if this lantern is
any indication, then maybe the locket did its stuff."

His brow cleared and the smile burgeoned in full.
"And if the cave-in occurred in your time, then—d"

In her excitement, she interrupted him. "Maybe there
wasn't one in your time. Which means that—"

"I might be home."

Her face fell, the moment of elation evaporating as
the meaning of his words became clear. If he was home that would
mean that she was now a card carrying member of the nineteenth
century.

And without the locket, it was a one way ride.

"Cara? Honey, are you all right?"

Cara forced herself to focus on Michael's face,
pushing her panic down. Whatever was going to happen was going to
happen. She'd learned a long time ago that she had no control over
life. And nothing happening now had changed her opinion. She
squared her shoulders. Their immediate concern had to be getting
Michael to Patrick. "I'm fine." She'd face the enormity of what she
was doing later. When she had the luxury. Glancing to the shifting
shadows beyond the lamplight, she pulled in a fortifying breath.
"Let's get out of here."

Michael squeezed her shoulder, then bent to pick up
the lantern, already moving toward the front of the tunnel. She
started to follow and then noticed the pack of matches at her feet.
'Waste not want not' and all that. She scooped them up and stuffed
them in her pocket, wondering if John Heywood had ever thought
about time travel, then quickened her pace, following the pale glow
of Michael's lamp.

Rounding the last bend of the tunnel, she skidded to
a stop, the sunlight filtering in through the opening a truly
awesome thing to behold. It played off the rock walls, making them
glisten and glitter. Michael was already heading outside, his mind
obviously centered on the task of finding his brother and keeping
him alive. She started to follow just as he stepped out into the
sunshine.

One second she saw his silhouette outlined by the
sun, and the next, he disappeared and everything went dark. Deep
impenetrable black. Fear stung her throat as she swallowed a
scream. She forced herself to walk forward, hands extended, choking
back a sob. Panicking wouldn't help. In only a few short steps, her
worst nightmare was confirmed as her hands touched the sharp-edged
roughness of the cave-in. Michael was gone. She sank to her knees,
trying to think.

She'd watched him walk out of the tunnel. The
sunlight had been blinding. One minute he was there, and the
next—gone. Safe in his own time. Which meant she was alone in her
own time, with no way out. As if to underscore the thought, a
flurry of rocks rained down from the ceiling.

"Cara?"

She jerked up. "Michael? I'm here." She could hear
his voice from the other side of the rocks. Then, suddenly, he was
there and the mine was filled with light again. She flung herself
into his arms, content for the moment just to feel his heart
beating next to hers.

"What happened?" His voice caressed her ear. "You
disappeared."

She sucked in a breath, still trying to calm herself.
"I don't know." She paused, trying to force the words out. "One
minute you were there and then you were gone."

He massaged her back with one strong hand, the other
reaching under her chin, tipping her head up. "You were still in
your time."

She closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath,
exhaling slowly. "Trapped."

He frowned at the entrance, tantalizing now with its
false offer of freedom. "But I got out."

"Into your own time, Michael. Maybe we're destined to
stay where we belong." She tried but couldn't keep the hopelessness
from her voice. "I can't go through those rocks. I can't go back to
your time."

"I won't accept that." His eyes flashed with
anger.

She shook her head, shaking off her self-pity. "You
may not have a choice."

He frowned considering what she'd said. "There's
always a choice, Cara. And I will not leave you here to die."

"So what? You'll stay here and die with me? You'll
let Patrick die, too?" She tried but couldn't keep the bitterness
out of her voice. Everything she cared about she lost. And now, in
some bitter sort of irony, she was going to have to force him to
leave her to die.

"You're making this all too cut and dried. There has
to be a way out."

"Maybe. I don't know." She ran a hand through her
hair, trying to fight against the feeling of inevitability. "But
the fact remains that you got out and I couldn't."

He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. I just
crossed into your time,
and
left the tunnel. And when I
found you in the snow we were outside the tunnel."

"So maybe you're the time traveler, not me."

He sat down beside her, staring out at the sunlight.
"But, you can see the sunlight, can't you? You can touch the
lantern. They're both in my time."

He held the lantern out and she ran one finger along
the base, a tiny flicker of hope blossoming within her. "But that's
only in the tunnel."

He blew out a breath. "Well then it must be something
to do with the locket."

She felt hope die. "Great. It's buried under ten tons
of twenty-first century rock."

He wrapped an arm around her. "Cara, we're not giving
up that easily."

"But I don't see how…"

"We'll try going out together." She opened her mouth
to argue, but he covered her lips with a finger. "If that doesn't
work, we'll figure out something else. I'm not leaving you."

"But your brother…" How could she expect him to
choose?

He met her gaze, his eyes reflecting an emotion she
suddenly found herself wanting desperately to identify. "I'm
not
going to leave you." He grabbed her hand, his fingers
wrapping securely around hers. "Ready?"

She nodded and allowed him to pull her forward
slowly. She concentrated on the swaying green of the spruce tree.
The warmth from Michael's hand radiated up her arm, infusing her
with courage. One step at a time.

She stepped again and a wrenching pain seared up her
arm. She jerked back, rocks scraping her. It was almost as if she
was pulling her arm out of the debris. Black descended again, but
this time the accompanying fear was duller, more resolute. Some
part of her had already known what the outcome would be.

"Michael? Can you hear me?"

It happened like before. One minute it was dark, and
the next, the cavern was filled with light, the change occurring so
quickly it made her dizzy. Michael swept her into his arms, the
force of his embrace lifting her off the ground, cradling her
against his chest. "We're going again. Hold on tight." His voice
was strained with anxiety.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." His tone brooked no argument. "You
just have to hold onto me. I won't let anything happen to you.
Believe in
me
, Cara."

She tried to push her doubts aside, wrapping her arms
around his neck, comforted by the smell and feel of him. "Are you
ready?" She nodded, afraid to say anything, feeling his muscles
tighten and bunch as he prepared to run.

The dark was almost overpowering this time. She could
feel it all around her. The stones scraped her arms and legs, the
weight of all the rock crushing down on her. She tried to focus her
thoughts on Michael, to hold tightly to him, but she could no
longer feel him, only the darkness. It ebbed and flowed around her.
Cold. So cold. She tried to fight it, to hold on, to find Michael,
but there was nothing but the icy darkness and the crushing weight
of the rock. She knew she was dying, was certain of it somewhere
deep inside, and with a soft sigh, she let go.

*****

"Cara, sweetheart, can you hear me?" Her
hands felt like ice. He rubbed them between his own, willing her to
open her eyes and look at him. Her breathing was shallow, but right
now any movement was a positive sign.

He closed his eyes, for a moment reliving the
absolute terror of their exit from the tunnel. He'd actually felt
her being ripped from his arms. He'd tightened his grip, his
muscles twisting with pain as he'd struggled to maintain his
hold.

He shook his head. He'd taken a huge risk, literally
dragging her into his time, but she was safe, and right now that
was what mattered most. He opened his eyes and studied the
porcelain texture of her face. Even asleep she was beautiful. His
heart rate increased as he thought again how close he had come to
losing her. Nothing was as important as keeping her alive.
Nothing.

She moaned, the small sound seeming to reverberate
off of his soul. With a flicker, her eyes opened and she looked up
at him. "Michael? Where are we?"

He helped her sit up, keeping an arm around her.
"Judging from the size of the spruce, I'd say we're back in my
time."

Fear flickered across her face, but almost as quickly
it was gone, and she smiled hesitantly. "As long as we're out of
that tunnel, I'm happy to be anywhere."

He ran a gentle hand along the line of her jaw. "I
thought for a minute there I was going to lose you."

She shivered, lost in memory, then squared her
shoulders meeting his gaze. "But you didn't."

"I'm sorry about all this." He waved a hand in the
direction of the spruce, the little tree signifying everything.

"We've covered that ground before. You've saved
me—again. Right now that's all that matters, that and finding your
brother." She met his gaze squarely. "When the time comes, I'll
find my way home."

Michael winced. He couldn't, wouldn't think about
losing Cara again. Not now. Maybe not ever. He'd just have to find
a way to convince her to stay.

But first he had to make things right. And to do
that, he had to save his brother. "There's a line shack not far
from here. I can leave you there until I find Patrick."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. "No way,
Michael. Until we resolve this, whatever we do, we do it together."
She crossed her arms and squinted at him angrily, looking like a
bizarre cross between an avenging angel and a street urchin.

She stood up, wiping her hands against her jeans, all
business now. "What do we do first?"

A sense of pride welled up inside him, and something
else, something powerful and possessive. She was the most amazing
woman he had ever known. And he'd be damned if he'd let her
willingly walk out of his life. He forced himself to focus on her
question. There'd be time to examine his fragile new emotions
later.

"Can you handle a gun?"

"Like a pro. My grandfather taught me to shoot about
the same time he taught me to ride." She smiled up at him,
determination glinting in her eyes. "But, Michael, where are we
going to get weapons?"

"There'll be some in the line shack. We'll go there,
and then we'll head to Clune."

*****

"Can you see anything?" Loralee poked her
nose above the windowsill, searching the yard for some sign of
their tormentor.

"Stay low." Patrick glanced over at her, then
returned his gaze to the ranch yard.

"I can't stand much more of this." Loralee kept her
voice pitched to a whisper. Pete was sleeping and there was no
sense waking the man. "It's like torture, Patrick. Waiting and
waiting. If we're such sitting ducks, why doesn't he just kill
us?"

Patrick reached over and covered her hand with his,
the contact comforting. "He's got a mind of his own, that's for
sure. But he knows what he's doing. Any overt movement on our part,
and he'll pick us off one by one."

Loralee squared her shoulders, determined not to give
in to her fear. This was by far the worst spot she'd been in over
the years, but that didn't mean she hadn't had her share of
trouble. And she'd survived it all. And truth be told, she wasn't
planning on kicking the bucket just yet. "There's got to be
something we can do." She glanced over her shoulder at Pete. "He's
got a fever, Patrick. I don't know how much longer he can hold
out."